


Office Hours

by musiclovesbest



Series: Adventures at Hogwarts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Do not need to have read Cursed Child, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Neville is amazing, Professor Neville Longbottom, Scorpius is just trying to live his life, draco redemption, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9582176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclovesbest/pseuds/musiclovesbest
Summary: Neville always tries to do right by his students, and that includes everyone. Especially the child of his old tormentor who everyone seems to dislike upon hearing his name.Or"Neville Longbottom is a big softie to smol cinnamon roll Scorpius."





	

Scorpius Malfoy was, most decidedly, _not_ his father. From the second the small blond walked into the greenhouse on the very first day of class, rattling on about something with an amused Albus rolling his eyes behind him; Neville knew that he was dealing with someone completely different from the Malfoy he had gone to school with.

Scorpius paid attention in class. His hand was frequently in the air, either to answer a question or ask one. The biggest surprise, however, comes in the form of him offering help to his fellow students, far beyond just those in his own house.

By the end of the first week Neville barely even associates Scorpius with the Malfoy name.

The same cannot be said of others. Neville had gone straight to McGonagall when he had started at Hogwarts, hoping to make sure there was never a teacher like Snape again. So, teachers keep their attitudes in check and treated little Scorpius with respect. Students, however, are harder to control.

It was an average day. Neville set students to messing about with several different plant types in order to name them and their magical properties. It was quiet, the normal murmur of students discussing their thoughts as Neville moved through the greenhouse to assist those who were struggling.

The voice of Genevieve Bell, the daughter of one Katie Bell, resounded through the room.

“What, you think you know more than me?” Genevieve towered over the smaller Slytherin boy. Much like her mother, Genevieve loved Quidditch. Though she had not made the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she played recreationally whenever she could, and she had the strong build to prove it.

“No. No, not at all. I just…” Scorpius stammered, backing away with his hands held up in surrender.

“I know what it is. You think because your father is Draco Malfoy, you can do whatever you want.” An indignant squawk followed the statement. Scorpius had never once used his name to get anything, as far as Neville knew. Genevieve continued to hover over a stammering Scorpius, trying in vain to get Genevieve to stand down. “Go ahead. Try and curse me like your father did my mother. I’ll show you what a Bell is made of.” Scorpius’ arguments came to a halt as his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” It was a choked whisper. Work stalled as those closest to Genevieve and Scorpius paused to listen into the encounter. Albus seemed to have only just noticed and was pushing his way over to his friend from the other side of the room.

“Don’t act all innocent with me, Malfoy. I’m sure your father boasts all the time about his little stint as a Death Eater. He almost killed my mom. Honestly, he’s lucky she didn’t get him back during the Battle.” All the color drained from Scorpius’ face and a slight tremor ran through his thin frame.

Genevieve took no notice. “Your father probably told you all about the curse. I bet you’re gonna try it on me next, aren’t you Malfoy?”

Scorpius stays silent, even as Albus finally cames to stand next to him, drawing his wand. A pale hand on his arm stops him from raising it against Genieve, but Albus is quick to readjust and instead of a physical reply, he makes a verbal one.

“What do you know, Bell? You’re just mad that you couldn’t make it onto the Quidditch team like your mom.” Scorpius’ hand may have held Albus’ body in check, but there had never been a way to keep Albus’ mouth from running wild.

Genevieve’s face turns red and Neville can see her body tensing, getting ready to pounce. He steps in as Genevieve pulls her own wand from her robes.

“I had no idea that temper was hereditary, Ms. Bell.” Genevieve and Albus both jumped, along with a few eaves-dropping students. Everyone seems to have forgotten they were, in fact, still in class and therefore in /the presence of a professor. “Regardless, even your mother didn’t get away with it. A week of detention, if you please. I’ll determine what it will be later tonight.”

“Professor! What about Malfoy and Potter? Malfoy started it.”

“From where I was standing it seemed as if Mr. Malfoy was just trying to offer some help. As for Mr. Potter, that remark was unnecessary so two days of detention.”

Genevieve opened her mouth, prepared to argue, only to snap it shut again when one of her friends lays a hand on her shoulder and shakes her head. Genevieve moves to the other side of the greenhouse at her friend’s insistence. Albus takes up the now empty spot next to Scorpius.

The class progresses almost the same as it had before. Neville keeps a close eye on the two Slytherins, who usually ended up talking rather than working, but Scorpius is unusually quiet for the rest of the class. Albus chats on beside him, trying his best to get Scorpius to smile. As the class progresses Albus pales and his nervous habit of pulling at his robes becomes apparent. Scorpios continues to politely nod beside him.  

A few minutes before class ends Neville asks students to begin clean up. Soon afterward, people start shuffling out. Albus seems almost desperate for some kind of reaction from Scorpius as he bends in front of the blond’s face, trying to catch his eyes. Scorpius keeps his face toward the ground, silver hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Mr. Malfoy, would you mind helping me bring a few things back to my office? I’m not the most graceful person when it comes to walking and there are one or two things that must stay in one piece.”

Scorpius doesn’t think twice, never one to say no to helping someone (least of all a professor). The boy waves on Albus, who has stalled in the door way.

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute. Don’t be late to class.” Scorpius shots Albus a clearly forced smile before turning to take what Neville hands him. Albus stays only a few seconds longer, face strained with worry, before disappearing from the doorway.

Neville hands Scorpius a few glass cylinders before picking up a box full of tools and books. Neither party says anything and when Neville turns toward the door Scorpius follows behind silently. They make their way from the open lawns to the warmth of the crowded castle halls, students barely give them a second glance as they rush to their classes. Neville balances the box between his hip and the wall as carefully as possible in order to open the door and once inside, drops the box on the floor without a care.

Scorpius pauses in the doorway, unsure.

“You can put those on that table right there,” Neville said, and Scorpius startles slightly before doing as asked. Once his hands are empty, he looks even more unsure of himself, shrinking in on himself, hunching his shoulders and keeping his fidgeting hands close to his body.  

Neville remembers doing the same thing when he was that age.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Malfoy? I’ll make some tea.” Neville gives a soft smile and Scorpius almost flinches.

“Actually, I have Transfiguration right now, Professor, so I really should…”

“Nonsense, I’m sure Professor Taylor won’t mind. Help yourself to some biscuits.” Neville pushes the tin toward the boy, who slowly takes a seat in front of the desk, cautiously taking a biscuit from the proffered tin.  

The office is warm, the fall breeze drifting in from the window doing little to cool the slightly cramped space. A worn couch beside the door holds two throw pillows and a soft looking blanket. The walls are crowded with bookshelves, books and plants alike could be found scattered throughout the office. Neville had taken extra care to make sure students would feel welcome and comfortable when they came to visit. Scorpius did not seem to feel either.

“I was wondering if you will, what you thought about what Ms. Bell said during class?” Neville watches as Scorpius accidently cracks the biscuit in his hand in half, startling himself.

It is silent for a beat before Scorpius answers.

“I, um, I had no idea what she was talking about, honestly. Father doesn’t really talk about the past.” Scorpius looks down at the uneaten, broken cookie in his hand as he speaks.

“Okay, but what about how you feel? Are you okay?”

It’s silent again. Neville could hear the unmistakable deep breath of a person holding back tears.

“I’m fine.” It’s a whisper, and Neville knows it’s a lie, but he's not going to push the boy.

“I want you to know that that kind of behavior is not tolerated. What Ms. Bell said was out of line. I _also_ want you to know that the way people are treating you is not fair and you should tell someone if something like this happens again. People shouldn’t be judging you based on who your father is.”

“It’s not a big deal. Really.”

Neville sighs. He understands that Scorpius is probably not going to come and unload all of his problems to him. Neville only hoped to extend the sort of kindness none of _his_ teachers had extended to him. Except for maybe Lupin. Mad-Eye had been nice enough, but Neville had been distraught when he found out that Mad-Eye had actually been a Death Eater to even acknowledge the small courtesies the man had extended to him. Hagrid was nice enough of course, but Neville hadn’t had the same kind of relationship with the man that Harry, Hermione, and Ron had.  

“Alright, Scorpius. Just know that you’re welcome here at any time. I know that the atmosphere of Hogwarts can be a bit overwhelming at times.” Scorpius gives a small huff of agreement and Neville thinks of it as progress. “Think of my office as a safe space. I won’t push you to talk or anything, but if you want to vent, you’re always welcome to come here. Or, if you just need a quiet place away from the rest of the school, you can find that here too.”

Scorpius gives a nod, still fiddling with the broken biscuit. “Thank you, professor.” There is a pause and Scorpius finally looked up. “I really should get to class, though.”

“Of course. Let me write you a pass.” Neville is, of course, disappointed that he had been unable to get through to the boy, but he also knows it will take time.

Neville writes out the pass and Scorpius turned to leave.

“I understand you know. What it’s like to be held up to your parent’s legacy.” Neville says in a last ditch attempt to connect, “I know what that kind of weight is like. Just know that I don’t see you as your father Scorpius. You are your own person and a rather brilliant one at that. Like I said before, you’re always welcome here.”

Scorpius pauses in the doorway, his back to Neville. He’s silent for a beat before turning and giving Neville a soft smile. It isn’t the smile Neville is used to seeing on the boy’s face, but it is better than the forced one he had given Albus earlier.

“Thank you, Professor.” And then Scorpius is gone.

Neville heaves a sigh. Some things changed and some things stayed the same. The students of Hogwarts would come and go, but the way they treated each other would take a long time and a lot of effort to change.

~*~

It was several weeks after the first incident before Neville saw Scorpius in his office again. The Professor was beginning to think that Scorpius had not believed his words, but on a rather damp Friday, the boy appeared at his office door. Dark bags stood out under his eyes and his clothes looked sleep rumpled.

“I’m sorry to bother you Professor, but I just…” He trailed off uncertain before taking a deep breath and carrying on. “I remember you saying that I could come here if I needed to get away and…” He trailed off again, this time staying silent, his gaze shifting toward the floor and his fidgeting feet.

“Of course. Come on in. You look as if you haven’t slept in a week.” Neville’s voice was light, with the unasked question hanging in the air, not outwardly pushing for answers.

“I’ve been studying a lot. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I just need a breather.” He flopped unceremoniously on to the couch near the door, his school bag falling onto the floor beside it.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I just have some grading to do, but feel free to make yourself comfy.”

Scorpius nodded, pulled a book out of his bag and settled back into the couch to study. Neville was, of course, curious as to why the boy couldn’t study in his common room or even the library, but he was unwilling to push his luck and ask. The boy had taken up his offer and Neville could build on that. They sat in peace, Neville’s quill scratching as he graded papers and the occasional flip of a page as Scorpius read.

Twenty minutes later, Neville paused as he stood to grab another cup of tea, leaving a small pile of ungraded papers abandoned for a few minutes. Scorpius sat on the couch, his book laid on his stomach and his head resting in his hand, propped up on the elbow that leaned against the arm of the couch. His eyes were closed and his breathing even. It was probably the first time Scorpius had slept peacefully in a while. Neville made his cup of tea with a soft smile before returning to his grading without disturbing the boy.

A gentle “Scorpius” was all it took to wake the boy thirty minutes later. Scorpius blinked blearily and when he moved to stretch the book on his lap fell to the floor with a dull thud. It was only once he sat up and retrieved the book from the floor, that he seemed to realize he had fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry professor. I didn’t mean…” Neville cut in as Scorpius’ cheeks tinged pink.

“No need to apologize. I’m sure you needed the rest. I only woke you because classes just let out and I believe you have History of Magic in fifteen minutes.”

Scorpius looked at the clock perched on the fireplace mantle before nodding and stuffing his book back in his bag. The darkness under his eyes was still there but Scorpius seemed to have more energy than when he had first come into the office.

“Thank you, professor,” Scorpius said as he stood, swinging his bag onto his shoulder.

“Of course, don’t want you to be late. Not that Professor Binns would notice if you were late, but you know,” he shrugged, “I shouldn’t be encouraging students to skip class.” Neville gave a small laugh and Scorpius smiled from the doorway.

“I meant for letting me study-slash-nap in your office, but I also appreciate the wakeup call.” Students started streaming out of classrooms and into the hallway and Scorpius took that as his cue to go.

“See you in class Professor,” Scorpius called as he jumped into the sea of students flowing down the corridor.

~*~

Neville and Scorpius reached some kind of silent agreement after that. Scorpius would show up at Neville’s office during breaks in between classes, sometimes during lunch. Neither would talk, as they both worked on something or another. Half the time Scorpius ended up asleep in what was becoming his spot on the couch. The dark bags under his eyes never really going away.

Scorpius never tried to bring Albus. Neville thought it unusual. The two Slytherins were usually joined at the hip. Neville had asked once. Scorpius had replied by saying that Albus could be a bit of a distraction, and sometimes, not the quietest of people.

“Of course he also brings out the more talkative side of me, but I like coming here for the quiet.”

Neville had given a short laugh. Watching the two in any class was all the proof anyone needed to know that Scorpius was right.

So, they would both sit and enjoy the quiet.

Visits were sporadic. Unplanned. The largest gap between visits was a 3-week stretch in which Neville worried Scorpius no longer wished to visit. He kept an eye on Scorpius during class, growing worried as the skin around Scorpius’ eyes darkened. His clothes seemed to be permanently crumpled and stained. He was on edge, jumping whenever someone so much as spoke too loudly. Some of the anxiety seemed to have rubbed off on Albus as even he began to look less and less like the small boy Neville had watched grow up.

Neville tried to think of ways to help the boys. Scorpius was his main worry, as Albus’ problems seemed to stem from the anxiety that radiated off the silver haired boy. He considered going to McGonagall but there was nothing she could do that Neville himself hadn’t already tried.

Thankfully, a soft knock on his door some Friday before winter break brings Neville out of his concentration. He drops his quill on the desk, glad for an excuse to get away from the frankly confusing essay that one of his forth years has written. Sometimes Neville wonders how any of the students pass at all.

On the other side of the door is a timid looking Scorpius, turned away as if to leave.

“Umm, sorry Professor. I didn’t mean too… I mean, I should…. I….” The boy stammered, his gray eyes looking anywhere but Neville, bouncing around, barely taking anything in.

“Scorpius are you alright?” Neville had never heard the boy have such a hard time getting words out. Scorpius’ sentences may not always have flowed gracefully, but words never stumbled out of him in such a manner.

Neville’s question focused the boy, who’s back straightened, shoulder’s rolling back as his head lifted trying to give off the sense of strength. “Sorry Professor. I really shouldn’t have come here. I’ll just go. Nothing to worry about.” The trembling of his lower lip and the furrow of his brows told Neville he was lying.

“Why don’t you come in? At least calm yourself before running off to where ever you go in your free time,” Scorpius opened his mouth as if to decline, “Just for a few seconds. Actually, I could use your opinion on a possible class project I’ve been thinking about.”

Scorpius deflated and shuffled into the office. Instead of going his usual spot on the couch, he sat in one of the chairs in front of Neville’s desk, as he had that first day so many months ago.

“Biscuit?” Neville held out the tin to the boy.

Who suddenly burst into tears.

It would have been a lie for Neville to say he was surprised. He had seen a breakdown like this coming a mile away.

Neville didn’t have to ask; the words fell out of the boy like rocks falling from a cliff that had been waiting for just enough pressure to crumble.

“I’m sorry Professor, it’s just… It’s been a hard few weeks. Yesterday Professor Taylor gave me detention because I lost my beetle and he wouldn’t give me a new one. He said I probably wouldn’t be able to transfigure it anyways, which doesn’t make sense because I’ve been doing fine in that class. And then I got my History of Magic paper back. I put hours and hours of work into it and I thought it was _really_ good, but I failed it, and now I’m failing the class. Usually I wouldn’t care that much about my grades but Dad is getting concerned. He won’t stop asking if I’m okay, even though I keep telling him I’m fine. And _now_ I have to figure out how to fix the library book that someone tore in half before throwing it in the toilet. If I ‘lose’ another library book Pince will have my head.” Scorpius dropped his head into his hands, pulling air into his lungs in shuttering gasps. His hands wiped across his hidden face. He sniffled and Neville found himself at a loss of what to say.

Scorpius inhaled through his nose once more before abruptly sitting back up, his eyes once again refusing to look at Neville. The boys red-rimmed, gray eyes were focused entirely on the hands clasped together in his lap.

“Sorry Professor. I didn’t mean to breakdown like that. Usually, I would talk to Albus but he’s been having his own problems lately. I don’t mean to be a burden or anything.” He stood swiftly, grabbing his bag and startling Neville. “I’m sorry. I’ll just let myself out.” The boy wiped at his flushed face as he made his way for the door. Before he could grab the handle Neville is out of his chair, blocking Scorpius’ path.

“Scorpius, sit. I will not have you leaving this office upset. Your classes can wait. You obviously need to talk to someone.” The kid looked almost terrified and Neville realized that he wasn’t exactly that small chubby boy that no one took seriously anymore. “I mean you’re welcome to leave, I’m not going to force you to stay, but I think it would be better if you at least take some time to collect yourself. I know how quickly kids can jump on signs of weakness.”

Scorpius rubbed his arm under his pink noise before nodding miserably and taking back his chair. Neville relaxed slightly and returned to his own chair, gently pushing a box of tissues toward to the still sniffling boy across from him, who grinned weakly in thanks.

After a few minutes, Scorpius finally talked.

“I really am sorry.” He whispered.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Neville countered.

“It’s just…Hogwarts was supposed to be this magnificent place. It was supposed to be like a home, but it isn’t. I don’t hate it here,” He was quick to amend, “There’s so much to love, and it’s still warmer than the mansion, but… I’m treated like dirt. Less than dirt actually. I know my dad did some horrible things. I don’t know what exactly. He won’t talk about them. He’s not proud of who he used to be, but I don’t know who that was. So why do I get treated so unfairly for the actions of a man I don’t even know?” Another tear made its way down Scorpius’s face before being unceremoniously wiped away.

Neville sighed. He knew a thing or two about expectations due to parentage. “Some people let their expectations cloud their visions. It has nothing to do with you.” Neville paused. “Though Professor Taylor shouldn’t be acting like that. Is he usually like that with you?”

Scorpius shrugged and Neville knew the answer. He went through the same thing when Snape was a Professor. He was going to have a talk with McGonagall, but right now he had other things to focus on.

Scorpius still wouldn’t look at him.

“Your father,” Neville started, “he wasn’t the greatest person when he was your age. He had many prejudices taught to him by your grandfather. He’s changed if you’re anything to go by, but like you said, he’s not proud of who he used to be. And if he can remember what he used to be like than there are plenty of others who remember as well. Sadly, many people don’t understand how to handle the past and end up taking it out on a children instead.” Neville’s words tasted bitter in his own mouth and he could only imagine what they sounded like. He cleared his throat before continuing on. “I’m not going to tell you to try and defy people’s expectations, because you shouldn’t have too. What I am asking, however, is that you tell me when people, especially professors treat you unfairly.”

Scorpius finally looked up, eyes red-rimmed and fingers fidgeting. Neville watched him, waiting for the conformation that Scorpius eventually gave in the form of a small nod before returning his eyes to his fidgeting fingers.

Neville sighed and sat back. Now to cheer the boy up.

Reaching into his desk Neville pulled out a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavored Bean and held them out to the forlorn child in front of him. “Bean?”

Scorpius looked up, eyes furrowed before a look of disgust crossed his face. “I hate those things. I never get any good ones.”

Neville laughed before pulling one out of the box and examining it. “Seems we have the same luck. I guess I just always hope I’m going to get a good one.” Neville popped the bright red bean into his mouth before immediately spitting it out and into a tissue he grabbed from the box. “Ugh, hot sauce. Who comes up with theses?”

Scorpius giggled. It was a start. He held the box out to Scorpius who carefully selected a brown bean. He took a careful nibble from the end, pulling a tissue from the box in preparation for something terrible, like dirt or rotten fruit.

His eyes flew open in surprise before popping the whole thing into his mouth and chewing happily.

Neville raised an eyebrow in question.

“Fresh baked brownie.” He replied happily. Neville laughed.

It turned into a kind of game. Each taking turns selecting a bean and trying it before either spitting it back out in disgust or happily eating the whole thing. There were no points or skill required, just a relaxed atmosphere and laughter.

Scorpius full out laughed as Neville spit out yet another one. The taste of sour milk lingered as Scorpius spoke up. “Seems your luck is worse than mine professor.”

Neville rolled his eyes in good nature only to have them catch the clock in his peripheries. He had five minutes to get to his next class, which was outside. In greenhouse seven. The one farthest from his office.

“So sorry Scorpius, but it seems I have lost track of time.” Neville began collecting his papers, grabbing a box from his shelves and a book from on top of a filing cabinet.

Scorpius grabbed his bag and headed toward the door. His smile fell from his face and he paused, hand on the door knob. Neville stuffed a pile of papers in his bag before turning to find Scorpius hesitating in the doorway. The professor paused, waiting for Scorpius to speak.

“Thanks, Professor.” He finally looked up, his smile was small but genuine.

“Any time Scorpius. And I mean it. This is a safe space, feel free to use it as needed.”

Scorpius smile grew wider before he opened the door and took off down the corridor.

Neville shook his head with a small smile of his own, before following the boy’s lead. Leaving his office behind, Neville hurried to try and make the normal ten-minute trek outside in under two minutes.

~*~

Scorpius’ visits became more regular after that. Most of the time Scorpius would come alone. Sometimes he would sit on the couch, either reading or writing. Other times Scorpius would vent. The professor never tried to interrupt, preferring to listen and offer the best advice he could when the boy ran out of steam. Occasionally, Albus would tag along and Neville would take those opportunities to tell Scorpius silly stories from Albus’ childhood.

It was just after winter break that Scorpius approached the topic of his father’s childhood. The boy had stormed in after a quick tap at the door and thrown himself onto the couch. He pulled his feet up in front of himself, his knees knocking his chin, and placed a book firmly in front of his face. His forehead wrinkled even though he didn’t seem to be paying attention to the book as his eyes just glared at the words in front of him. His mouth was firmly pulled into a small frown, obviously aggravated.

Neville silently continued grading his papers, expecting it to be a quiet day.

“I just don’t understand why he’s so scared,” Scorpius exclaimed out of nowhere. Neville jumped as Scorpius snapped the book shut, his pen skiding across the paper. Scorpius didn’t notice the professor start; his eyes were focused instead on the crackling fireplace across the room.

It fell silent again and Neville patiently waited for him continue, not entirely sure what the boy was talking about. After a few minutes, Scorpius finally whipped his head toward Neville, eyes sharp and agitation clear on his face.

“I asked dad what he used to do when he was at Hogwarts, you know for fun, and he closed himself off again. I didn’t see him at all during break except for a few hours during Christmas. So, a few days before we were to come back, I told him he should try apologizing for what he did during his childhood if he thinks it was so bad.” Scorpius stood, pacing as he continued his story. The book was thrown onto the couch, completely forgotten. Neville put his pen down, directing his full attention on Scorpius. 

“He said that he couldn’t because if grandfather found out then there would be trouble. So I told him that he should tell grandfather to go stick it. Then he told me that it’s easier said than done. So I told him that it’s not really and that I was tired of being treated so coldly by the rest of the world for what he did and if he would just apologize maybe things would get better and he could take me out to do father/son things without us getting dirty looks.” Scorpius’ voice speeds up as he talks, his words crunching together as his aggravation takes over.

Scorpius halted, breathing heavy, his eyes once again on the fireplace as if he wished he could talk to his father right now. Slowly he turned back toward Neville, eyes shining with held back tears as his body deflates with defeat.

“Why won’t he just apologize?” It’s a whimper and Neville feels his heart break for the child in front of him.

Neville sighs and motions to the chair in front of his desk, moving to sit in the one beside it. Scorpius sits beside him, chin tilted downward as his shoulders sag. He slumps in the seat, all the pent up anger from the last month leaving him with nothing to hold him up.

“Scorpius, you have to understand. What your father did wasn’t just some small bullying. He joined a _movement_ full of bad people. Of course, he was still young and I’m sure his parents pushed him to it, but many people aren’t going to be happy if he were to just shows up out of the blue, even if it just to apologize.”

Scorpius sighs and pulls into himself. His shoulders pull up to his ears as some tension returns to him.

“I know, it’s just… Albus talks about how his dad takes him and his sibling to do all these things. My dad won’t even let me leave the house without some kind of protection in place because he’s scared someone will try to kill me.” There’s a pause, the soft popping of the wood from the fireplace the only sound in the room. “I just want to have a normal family.”

“I’m sorry Scorpius,” Neville chuckles, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but there no such thing as a normal family. Never has been.”

Scorpius looked down at his hands and Neville can’t help but be reminded of that day so many months ago when the boy had appeared at his door already in tears.

“Listen Scorpius. Your father, he did some terrible things, you know this, but he’s trying. I’ve seen the contributions he’s made; the money he has given to charities. I think he’s trying his best considering his past.”

Scorpius nods. Neville gets the sense that the boy understands, but isn’t entirely thrilled about what he has been told. Neville has a rule. He tries his best to keep his students happy, but he is not going to lie to them, and telling Scorpius that everything would get better if his father apologized (and that his father would apologize if Scorpius kept pushing him) would not make things better. It also has the huge potential to make things much worse for the boy.

Neville sighs before standing and taking back his seat behind his desk. “I’m sorry Scorpius. I know it’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but I think the best thing you can do right now is just remind him that he’s not the same person he used to be.”

Scorpius nods, eyes glazed over as his gaze once again returns to the fireplace. Neville leaves Scorpius to his thoughts and dives back into his never ending pile of grading.

It isn’t until later that night that the idea comes to Neville

~*~

Neville sent out the invitation the next day. It was nothing flashy, and he picked out the same brown barn owl he always uses to deliver it. Draco’s name was written neatly on the front with Neville’s Hogwarts address scrawled in the corner.

A reply came a day later.

A week after that and Neville headed into Hogsmeade, braving the cold with a thick brown scarf and his warmest coat wrapped tightly around him. The Three Broomsticks was practically empty on a Wednesday afternoon, but Neville still grabbed a table in the far back, where it was easy enough to hide away from prying eyes. Madam Rosmerta had always had a soft spot for him, so when he had asked for tea in the shop that usually sold soda pop, she had gladly obliged. Neville was early, but Draco steps in only a few seconds after the tea has been placed on the table with a few snowflakes following him in.

Draco was gaunt. As a child, he had always been too pale and thin, and it was apparently something that had carried over into adulthood. The hood of his cloak covers the shiny, silver hair that Neville knew lays underneath, while his face hides in the shadows the overly large hood provides. It was dramatic, signature Draco Malfoy, who still walks as purposefully as he had in the halls of Hogwarts so many years ago.

It was only as the other man slides into the booth across from him that Neville even notices the slight tremor running through his hands.

“Tea?” Neville asks politely as Draco pulls his hood back.

Draco tips his head and gives a soft, “thanks,” before taking the cup in front of him in both hands.

The dull murmur of a few other customers sounds distant while the two men sit in awkward silence. Neither seems able to look the other in the eye. A bark of laughter from nearby pulls Draco out of his own mind. Neville practically jumps when the other man suddenly starts talking.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I know it’s not much and there nothing I can do to make up for all the hurt I caused you. All the hurt I caused everyone, but I am truly am sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did in school. You never deserved anything I ever did to you. None of the people I harassed deserved it. I don’t even know why I did it. But I am sorry. So so sorry.” The tremble that had started in his hand has encased Draco’s whole body. Neville can’t help but see the irony in the fact that his old tormentor seems so scared of him.

Neville gives a soft laugh. “I forgave you a while ago.”

The look Draco gives him is priceless and Neville only wishes he had a camera to capture it.

“What?” Draco whispers unbelieving.

“I learned long ago that holding a grudge is not worth it. Too much energy being put into something so negative. Besides, you’ve done a wonderful job with Scorpius. A terrible person could never raise such a wonderful young man.”

Neville never thought he would see the day that Draco Malfoy cried in public, but here it is.

It’s not dramatic sobbing, but a few tears trickle from his aged gray eyes, so similar to the ones Neville sees so often in his office. Neville thinks his face is probably almost as priceless as Draco’s was mere moments ago.

“Excuse me,” Draco says as he stands abruptly, He wipes away a few tears with trembling hands before heading for the door.

Neville gives Draco a few minutes to himself before following after him. Outside, the wind is cold, yet refreshing. It blows away the past, giving the two grown men a fresh start.

Draco leans against the outside of the shop, eyes closed as he collects himself. He begins talking without opening his eyes.

“Astoria has a lot to do with how wonderful our boy is.” Draco opens his eyes, meeting Neville’s own as the professor comes to stand next to him. “She told me that she didn’t want Scorpius growing up with the twisted ideals our parents gave us.” He gives a choked bitter laugh. “My parents hated her, but I think that’s one of the many reasons I loved her.” He looks up at the sky. The soft gray clouds passing above block out any chance of sun ,and snow slowly drifts down in little cotton tuffs. “Scorpius has more courage in his little pinky than I have in my whole body.” The words are a proud whisper that ride Draco’s clouded breath out into the world.

“He has to have gotten is from somewhere.”

Draco’s mouth quirks, “That would be Astoria.”

Draco turns to Neville again, head leaning back against the brick wall. “You know she apologized to everyone she could only a few years after the war. She continued to apologize to people for years. Before she died she said she was glad she had been able to at least _try_ to fix some of the wrongs she had done.” The sad smile suddenly disappears, replaced by a frown. “I, on the other hand, just apologized for the first time in my life.” It was a bitter statement, emphasized as he scuffed his shoe on the ground, scraping away at the polished leather with a sigh.

“And how do you feel?”

Draco pauses, considering. His eyes are distant as he tries to find the right words. His answer is a hopeful whisper.

“Lighter.”

Neville had been the first in a long list of apologies Draco would give. McGonagall was the second. Draco held it together as he apologized, words rushing past his lips as his body trembled.

 He sobbed when McGonagall pulled him into a hug, saying Scorpius was apology enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this started as a headcanon that me and my friend were talking about and next thing I knew, I had three pages of very detailed headcanon and the urge to write that was encouraged by my friend. This has gone through several drafts, more drafts than anything I've ever written in my life (including school work). This is the first piece of Harry Potter fiction that I've written that includes cannon characters and I really hope I have done right by them. I'm kind of proud of this, to be honest. 
> 
> Shameless plug to check out my other Hogwarts fics that feature some OCs which can be found in this series (Adventures at Hogwarts).
> 
> And of course, comments are always welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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